Home, in Rome
by Akasora-senpai
Summary: Even if he had to wander all over Europe, he'd find his love no matter what. AU. Set in 21st century Russia and Italy. Inspired by the songs 'Europe's Skies' and 'Fairytale' by Alexander Rybak. Kaito x Miku, Luka x Gakupo. Rated M for coughexplicitsexcough.
1. Every Inch of You

**A/N: 1. Okay, you must be wondering why I'm posting so many Rybak songfics recently. Well, the only answer is that his songs are just so damn _inspiring_. And I can keep writing KaitoxMiku fics forever, 'cuz they're the only pairing I can write without feeling awkward. Don't worry, the fic I'm gonna write after this features Rin as the main character :D.**

**2. Okay, this is kinda similar to my Ievan Polkka songfic: none of the Vocaloid's actual names is used here :D. Instead they're all given _Russian_ names which are closest to their original names -spoiler- exceptforcharacterswhoarenotrussianinthisstory -end of spoiler-. If you can't figure out who is who, there's a cast list at the end of each chapter that lists the names of new characters appearing in that chapter and the name of the Vocaloid next to it. Here is the format:**

_Vocaloid name _as **Character name **(Diminutive(s) if used)

* * *

_Moscow, USSR, 1988_

"Give me back my Masha! GIIIIIIIIIVE IT BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"

"Oh, what if I don't?"

"I'm telling maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaama!"

Screaming at the top of her lungs with her naturally high-pitched voice until her throat was all sore, crying and crying and crying until red spots appeared in her eyes, the five-year-old aqua-pigtailed girl was burning with anger. She kicked dirt all over the place, staining her white dress as well as sent continuous punches at the taller boy before her who had taken captive of her pretty blonde doll, very often known as "Masha", with her pale, weak, chubby hands.

"Yeah, go home and tell your mama, stupid _crybaby_!" - it took less that one second later for the deep blue-haired boy to start singing: "_Mileva is a crybaby!_"

"I'm _not _a crybaby! You are a stupid bully! Konstantin is an ugly big fat _bully_! Give me my Masha back!"

"Come here and get it!" - the boy bounced joyfully as he dodged the girl's clumsy attacks with swift movements and held the doll up high, making sure she couldn't reach. Even more aggressively, he put his strength into his free hand and with a strong hit, pushed Mileva's head downwards, which then caused her little chubby build to collapse face-flat on the dirty ground.

Konstantin had stopped his acts and waited for the girl to get up on her feet and began hitting him with her oh-so-adorable way of hers. What he didn't expect though, was that she _remained_ lying down.

Seconds later, she seemed to have pulled herself together and finally managed to sit up on the ground to look at the blue-haired boy. He was in shock - a scarlet liquid drew two thick lines from her nostrils to her lips, which then soon painted her entire mouth and chin in red, dripping one drop after another.

"Oh dear, I... I didn't mean it... Mileva, I'm so sorry!" - a handkerchief ready in hand, the five-year-old boy crouched down to the little girl's level and gently began wiping the blood away from her face. A light blush crept across Mileva's milk white face - "There you go... All clean now... Oh, and here, your Masha." - smiling ever so lightly, he grabbed the pretty doll and handed it to the turquoise-haired, who was then also smiling.

"Thanks a lot..." - she giggled, causing the boy to blush as well.

"Hey, why don't we be friends," - the boy held out his hand, awaiting a hand-shake - "_Milya_?"

Her eyes soon widened; the bully who'd been pissing her off for the last few days was calling her by such a friendly title. She grabbed his hand firmly and shook both their hands up and down for a few times, smiling yet again.

"Well then, let's be friends forever, _Kostya_."

* * *

_Moscow, the Russian Federation, 2005_

"What is it that you asked me to be here so suddenly? My friends are waiting for me, you know!" - the teenage girl complained quite loudly between gasps and pants. She pushed the door behind her shut, covering herself in the dark and dirty atmosphere of the "hideout" - an abandoned classroom in a secluded corner of the 6th floor. No wonder it'd been abandoned.

"Like, come on Milya, this is important! If it hadn't been an emergency, I wouldn't have called you here!" - replied the blue-haired male nonchalantly.

"What is it, Kostya?" - unamused, Milya crossed her arms as she questioned the taller smiling male.

"You know..." - shuffling closer to the girl by the door, Kostya spoke to her in a deep, sensual voice - "We've been dating for more than a year now, but there's still something we haven't done... I wonder if I can k... k..."

"What's wrong?"

"If I can... you know... ki... kiiiii..."

He didn't need to say more, because he was cut off by a pair of soft, moist lips pressed against his own. The feeling was warm, sweet and just perfect, but it didn't last very long for Milya was the one who pulled away first. She whispered: "There. How was that?"

"It was... great..." - replied Kostya, smiling.

"I love you, _Kostenka_."

"I love you too, _Milenka_."

* * *

_2009_

"Just... hold on a minute... Kostya, are you sure you want to do this?" - asked the aqua-pigtailed girl, who was then flushed red, breathing raggedly with her body covered by just a thin, white, translucent nightgown and sitting on the mattress in an embarrassing position.

"You know I do, Milenka... But if you think it's too soon, I wouldn't mind waiting." - the blue-haired answered in a deep and breathy voice. He was shirtless.

"No... I mean, we're both twenty-one now..." - replied Milya absent-mindedly; she was too busy examining her boyfriend's body again and again. Every lines and curves, and all those muscles... Oh God, she could feel herself horny and wet already. - "but I just... don't know what to do... It's my first time..."

"Don't worry..." - chuckling ever so sweetly that it sent a rapid shiver all the way down Milya's spine, he shifted a bit and moved closer to her, cupping her reddening cheek with his somewhat rough hand - "it's also my first time, just to let you know. But I promise I'll try my best."

With that, he captured her lips in a hot, burning kiss. His tongue passed into her warm, heated mouth easily, clashing with her own in a fierce battle, sending both of them to a steaming fever. He quickly added mischievous touches here and there as their kiss went on. They soon parted due to a lack of oxygen, connected by a sparkling thread of saliva.

With no words being said afterwards, Kostya removed the thin gown from Milya's body in a sleek fast movement, throwing it to the ground. Milya panicked slightly; she was naked in front of her lover, nothing left covering her except her tiny articles of undergarment. She had no time to pull herself together; the blue-head was already licking and sucking a particularly sensitive area on her neck. Tears rolled down her cheeks when a sharp pain from his unexpected bite shot through her, but, as apologetic as he could, he resumed flicking his tongue over the red patch of skin - which was destined to become purple later.

Milya could see where this was going. Smiling, Kostya took her bra off of her in a swift manner. He couldn't believe it: she was truly gorgeous to behold. Her perfect breasts were so white and smooth that it reminded him of balls of snow. Without thinking twice, he took one of her nipples between his lips and started sucking.

"Ahh... Kos... nn... tya..."

He stopped his ministrations on the spot and stared Milya in the eyes. Those bright turquoise eyes.

"Why... did you stop... Kost..."

"Shh." - eyes half-lidded, he placed his index finger on the girl's lips, silencing her - "What did you just call me?"

"Kostya..."

"Oh _milaya Milenka maya_, you're still treating me like your friend, aren't you?" - he began teasing with a very aroused and somewhat disappointed Milya - "I prefer the name you called me four years ago. What was it?"

"You mean..." - she entwined her slim fingers into his dark blue hair - "_Kostenka_?"

"Yes... Can you repeat it?"

"Ko... Kostenka!" - she obeyed rather cheerfully; her sugary sweet voice and the syllables sliding down her tongue and bouncing off her teeth nearly shot him into the sky.

"Keep repeating it... Please... I love hearing you like that..."

"Kostenka... Kostenka... Kostenka..."

The sounds almost sent him into a coma. They sounded just like the most beautiful music in the whole world to him, they echoed, they rang loudly in his brain, and it felt increasingly good.

"Alright, stop for a moment." - Kostya didn't hesitate taking the last piece of clothing off of his body. Milya gasped; he was _completely _nude - "Can you... do me a favor?"

"What is it?" - she pondered innocently.

"That... Down there..." - he implied. She looked down at the place he mentioned, and she gasped yet again; he was fully erect.

"But... what should I do?"

"Take it..."

She didn't quite get what that meant, but she'd quickly drawn out her assumption. She took his length in her hand, which resulted in a flushed Kostya's nod in approval.

"Now suck."

"Sorry?"

"I mean, _suck _it. Do you understand?"

And the next thing he felt was... indescribable. The way her mouth embraced his manhood... Sending waves after waves of heat through every nerves he had... He swore he could have exploded at any time.

"Nn... Keep going... ha... I'm... I'm gonna... nggghh... I can't... hold it... anymore... Please stop..." - the male inhaled sharply and squeezed his eyes shut. Aroused and panicking at the same time, Milya quit her acts and pulled away from him.

Kostya exploded.

"Oh my... I'm so sorry..." - still have not yet awaken from his ecstasy, he was surprised to see his girlfriend's neck and chest covered by the rich white liquid. She was going to have to take a shower after this.

Breathless, Kostya asked Milya to reach over to the nightstand and grab a small package sitting there. She agreed without being sure what it was. Ripping the little plastic bag apart, he handed Milya one of the two condoms that had fallen out, after which covered his length with the other one. He then suddenly sat up and pressed Milya down against the bedsheets, making her eyes widen in shock.

"Milenka... Are you ready?"

"Umm..."

"It's going to hurt, but don't worry... You'll get used to it soon."

"It's okay..."

He didn't need her to say more. He gave her gentle kisses here and there as he traveled all the way deep into her before starting to move in a slow, careful rhythm. Milya cried and twitched in pain, feeling that she could break any time. She was so, so close.

And she'd finally lost it. It wasn't long before Kostya followed suit. He retreated out of her and collapsed on the bed as they proceeded to cuddle.

_Я люблю тебя._

* * *

**End of chapter 1**

_**Translations:** Milaya Milenka maya_: My sweet Milenka** (ROFL puns FTW!)**; _Ya lyublyu tebya_: I love you  


**CAST **(in order of appearance):

_Hatsune Miku _as **Mileva **(Milya, Milenka)

_KAITO _as **Konstantin **(Kostya, Kostenka)

**A/N: 1. Picking a Russian female name that starts with "Mi-" is extremely hard XD. I found the name "Milena" on BehindtheNames but it just doesn't sound good (and yet it itself is a _diminutive _and not a real name). I instantly thought of Einstein's first wife and decided to name Miku after her. Though it's not a Russian name, I hope it sounds Russian enough XD.**

**2. Sorry if I've accidentally offended the Russian culture by referring to the characters as if they were my friends (calling Konstantin "Kostya" and all that crap), but I do that for short after introducing a character's name. Sorry though.**

**3. Okay, the line of the song is "Got to know every inch of you" which means "I still have got to know..." but I _misinterpreted_ it as "I've gotten to know...". But well, it's too late to change that now...**


	2. In my Tourist's Shoes

**A/N: I seriously need help: I need someone who can translate Russian and Italian phrases for me, cuz online translating tools are unreliable. Pretty plz?**

* * *

_Moscow, 2012_

He regretted this so much. He already knew too well that life had always been a scale that ruined lives whichever direction it tipped. And he, our beloved Kostya, knew he was one of its most miserable victims.

He shouldn't have let her go. He should have followed her to Rome years ago instead of staying in the State University of Moscow to "pursue his passion" like he had proudly declared back then. _Young me, childish me, stupid me,_ he thought. And now, he had no one by his side. No one to love. No one to be loved. Lonely.

His gaze met with the small rack beside his desk as his hands unknowingly pulled out all the contents placed within. He put the handful of editions of the _Tourist's Shoes_ magazine down on his desk, and all he saw was brilliant couché covers with breathtaking pictures of a tropical beach, a magnificent castle, a beautiful garden and so on, along with eye-catching phrases "Spend your Summer in Oahu", "Kingdom of Sweden: the Fearless Lion of Northern Europe", "Simplicity in Complexity: Beauty of Japanese Gardens", etc. He chuckled; those photos, he took them. Those titles, he came up with them. The articles bearing those titles, he wrote them. Those places, he'd been to all of them. His eyes admired so many gorgeous, amazing views that there would surely be many people who'd beg to switch places with him.

After all, being a journalist wasn't that bad.

* * *

The phone rang.

"_Allo_, Konstantin, _Tourist's Shoes_ magazine."

"_Allo_. RusTravel. I'm calling to inform you that your flight from Moscow to Rome on Thursday has been delayed. Now the flight is going to take place at 8:00 AM next Friday. No further changes are made."

"Oh, I guess I'll be okay with that. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Somehow, he felt thankful that the flight had been delayed. He was going to write an article about the capital of Italy, also the place where he'd never been to. But he just couldn't understand why he was happy that he didn't have to be there until the week after.

* * *

**End of chapter 2**

_**Translations****:**_ _Allo - _hello (answering a phone)

**CAST:**

_?_ as **RusTravel's agent  
**


	3. Times have Changed

_Rome, 2012_

"... So, do you like spicy food?"

"Yes..."

"Do you play any musical instruments?"

"Yes... The violin..."

"Do you like rich guys who can buy you thousands of diamond rings or normal guys who work at offices?"

"Urrrgh, can you just shut up and leave me alone, Rosalia? I'm busy my ass off now! Don't you have work to do too?"

"Jeez, relax, Mileva dear! How can you expect me to have something to do if there's no new clients at the moment? I'm just trying to find a perfect match for you; I mean, dear, you're twenty-three and still single!"

Milya pretended not to give a crap about the Italian blonde's - officially known as Rosalia - seemingly endless chattering and put all her focus on the gray-blue Apple laptop in front of her then slightly near-sighted aqua eyes instead. She had had a rather happy and enjoyable life in Rome working in the sales department of an Italian branch of a Russian company, with a good pay and good pension and all that jazz. However, she swore that she could've had an even better pay or a chance of promotion if the short blonde sitting inches away from her would stop distracting her from her work with her pointless babbling - often stupid match-making quizzes she grabbed from the Internet which then she always used to annoy the hell out of nearly every single employee of the company. In dear Rosie's own words, her very reason for that was that she was "too lucky" and "too happy" that she must complete her holy task of "bringing happiness to people". _Who does she think she is? Cupid? _thought Milya.

There was this certain thing that everybody, especially Milya, feared to death about sweet Rosie. Albeit she was full-fledged Italian along with one-fourth of the company's workforce, she spoke perfect Russian. The best out of all Russian-speaking Italians in the whole Rome office. Because of this, she was employed as an interpreter, which meant aside from the time when she had to cling to clients and translate for them, she had pretty much the whole day to fool around and ask petty questions like "which underwear color do you prefer, dear?". If that wasn't infuriating enough, those questions must be repeated at least a hundred times. As much as Milya could remember, she told Rosie that she played the violin around _sixty_ times.

But, the aqua-haired had to admit, the blonde's efforts did bear fruits sometimes, such as when she paired Valentina and Sergio, Maria and Anatoly or Matvey and Agrafena. So far, there hadn't been anyone in the sales department Rosie hadn't find the "perfect match" for, except two people. For two different reasons.

"Mileva, Mileva, Mileva dear... finding your sweetheart is harder than I thought..." - whined Rosie - "I even arranged a blind-date for you last week but then the dear guy told me that you were terrible and he never wanted to see you any more! And dear, you don't seem to be interested in any guy I introduced you!"

"Rosalia... I guess David really _is_ my type, but I just can't like him! My mind keeps telling me that I'm already in love with someone else, but I barely even _know_ who this "someone" is!" - as Milya explained, she began gripping her head and planting her face on her desk - "and my head aches every time I think about it!"

"You're just exaggerating, dear! Of _course_ you know who you're in love with! All the guys I've introduced you are great guys! My dear, you don't have to hide! Let me guess, dear, is it Fyodor? Or Ben? Pyotr? Igor? Gabriel? Aleksandr dear is pretty nice too..."

"Rosalia..."

"I think I know your problem, dear..."

"Rosalia..."

"Maybe you're being overly arrogant..."

"MISS ROSALIA GIUSEPPE!" - jolting from her chair yelling over the top of her lungs, the turquoise-pigtailed female caused nearly everyone present in the room to stare at her at once. Flushing in embarrassment, she quickly sat down, just to witness a very startled and trembling Rosie.

It was then, a violet-haired woman approached the Italian and informed in her usual soft voice: "Rosalia, the CEO wants to talk to you. Please see him in his office now."

It wasn't until the blonde disappeared along with the violet-haired woman that Milya heaved a sigh of relief. _Thanks a lot, Yulia._ she thought.

* * *

The blonde reached her hand up to fix her slightly tousled hair, looking absolutely miserable. The CEO gave her a piece of his mind for storing "inappropriate material" after he found her little note with the line "What underwear color do you prefer?" on the floor; which, he _clearly_ recognized her handwriting (the employees were scared of him because of that; he could recognize _everyone's_ handwriting, be it either Slavic or Latin). He even threatened to "kick Rosie's ass out of the company" if he ever saw anything similar again before dismissing her. _Like today wasn't horrible enough already! _thought the Italian. _Everybody is yelling at me!_

Too carried away in her long trail of angry thoughts, it took her a moment to realize she'd stepped on a pink-haired woman's foot. A creepy, chill-inducing glare from the taller met her eyes, causing the blonde to quiver and her tongue blubbered "I'm sorry!" in both Italian and Russian.

The person with long, silky pink hair whom Rosie bumped into, also the other sales department employee whom she couldn't find a lover for, was known as Lyubov, the head of the department. Her seriousness, strictness and _scariness _was what made her well-known throughout the Rome office _and _immune from Rosie's pointless match-making efforts. Rosie thought it was downright ridiculous how such a cold and emotionless being could be named _love_.

What was even _more_ ridiculous was that dear Lyuba _didn't believe one bit in love_.

"Lia? Lia? Can you hear me?"

"Oh, sorry, Gavino dear..." - said the blonde in Italian - "You're trying to tell me something?"

"... Yes..." - the tall violet-haired Italian male, Gavino (Russian level: lower than Rosie by a mere bit), was absolutely unamused, as always when it came to Rosie's bubbly behavior.

"What were you saying, dear?"

"Urrrgh..." - Gavino hated it when somebody didn't bother to listen to what he was saying, resulting in him having to repeat things all over again. He just couldn't understand why he could have someone like Rosie as a friend - "I said, I had a secret I've been keeping for so long and now I guess it's a good idea to tell you. The thing is... I have a crush on the sales department manager."

"Sorry?"

"I have a crush on Lyubov!"

...

...

...

"**HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! **Haha! Ha! In love with Lyubov? Dear God, you sure do know how to make puns there!"

"Shhhhh!" - sweating, the violet-haired man covered Rosie's mouth rudely by his huge hands - "I told you it's a secret! Phew, it's lucky no one's around... Anyway, Lia, I _seriously _need your help!"

"Help you hit on that creepy old hag? No way!"

"Don't you _dare _call her an old hag!" - it took Gavino a while to calm himself down and not strangle the crap out of the other - "Look at her soft pink hair... And her sparkling blue eyes too... She really is the girl of my dreams! You need to help me!"_  
_

He earned no answer from the petite blonde. Pulling an authentic pokerface, Rosie spoke as calmly as she could: "Gavino dear, I guess, as a friend, I should always tell you the truth. Well, our dear sales manager doesn't believe in love and thinks you are a stupid crazy idiot!"

With that, she turned away from him and started to leave. It wasn't long before she heard the other male shouting behind her: "Fine! Then I don't need your help! I can do this alone, and I believe that someday we'll be married and you'll sit in the corner crying for the rest of your life!"

"Okay, okay, you win, my dear. I'll help you, on one condition." - smirked Rosie - "You, dear, have to follow every direction I give you and you mustn't complain, otherwise I suppose the rest of the departm... the _company _would like to know your dirty little secret..."

"Okay fiiiiine... What a "good friend" you are..."

"I heard that!"

"Sorry!"

* * *

**End of chapter 3**

**_Translations:_ **_Lyubov_: love

**CAST:**

_Kagamine Rin_ as** Rosalia Giuseppe **(Lia, Rosie)

_Yuzuki Yukari_ as **Yulia  
**

_Megurine Luka_ as** Lyubov** (Lyuba, Lyubochka)

_Kamui Gakupo_ as **Gavino**

**A/N: 1. Lia is the correct Italian diminutive of Rosalia according to BehindtheName, but I guess I'd just refer to her as Rosie so it'll be easier to remember her real name. Giuseppe is the most Italian surname I can ever come up with.**

**2. Now I've just realized that I misinterpreted the whole "Europe's Skies" song altogether (it has nothing to do with romantic relationships XD), but don't worry, the story will still continue~ Since the story is also inspired by "Fairytale", I guess the plot still makes sense XD.**


	4. My Dream Come True

"Here you are, sir. A cappuccino."

"Thanks." - replied the aquamarine-haired man, clearly struggling with his Italian. The waiter was quite surprised when his eyes caught the sight of a journalist's tag on the other's chest - he just made a wild guess, since the tag was written in nothing but ugly and weird characters.

"Is there anything wrong?" - questioned the blue-head in English.

"Nothing..." - was all the waiter could say before disappearing.

Smiling inwardly, Kostya (everyone should've figured this out by now) took a sip from the warm drink and let his gaze float outside of the wide opened window. A gentle breeze picked up, caressing his face, playing with his fluffy hair, making him smile contentedly and close his eyes. Having spent two hours wandering in the streets resulting in aching feet and a bone-dry throat, it was like heaven for him to take a break in this small cafe, to sit down and enjoy the beauty to its fullest.

Turned out, the trip to Rome wasn't half as bad as he thought. The charming view and the life in this city had enchanted Kostya completely. He'd come to realize things he could have never had in Moscow.

He couldn't remember the last time he saw the sky so blue. Or the last time he saw those clouds looking so white, so soft, so _cute._ Like little flying sheep.

Flying sheep?

How silly was that!

Right?

_"Kostya, look! That cloud looks just like an apple!"_

_"Oh really? I think it looks more like an orange!"_

_"Hey, that cloud looks like a cow!"_

_"What?"_

_"I said, that cloud looks like a cow!"_

_"Ahaha... I guess so... But don't you think it looks more like a sheep?"_

_"Oh, maybe you're right... It_ does_ look like a sheep. A cute little sheep!"_

_"It really is cute... But you know what... I know a girl who's a thousand times cuter!"_

_"Oh Kostya, I know that "girl" you're talking about! Is she Mile-"_

_"Whaaaat? I thought it was Masha!"__  
_

_"Yooooooou!"_

_"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"_

Now he regretted it. He looked up at the blue sky and now, he was blue. On the verge of tears once again.

But then, as if automatic, he took out his camera and pressed the largest button, creating a decent "snap" noise.

* * *

It was very quiet in the cafe. No sounds were heard except quiet sipping noises and small conversations every now and then. Something that Kostya adored.

But there was something that he did not expect to happen at all: a rather loud and high-pitched complaint coming from behind him, immediately stirring the silence: "Oh my Gosh, I'm late!".

Kostya froze on the spot; the voice had a strikingly familiar ring to it.

The woman got up from her seat and nearly barged out of the door, followed by a loud "clack" on the floor. Kostya managed to catch a glimpse at her; she had long, blue-green hair. His eyes then soon met with a certain object probably left on the floor by the said female and created the previous "clack", causing him to gasp.

_Wow, she really is in a hurry_. he thought. _She even dropped her scarf_.

Approaching the scarf and picking it up, he marvelled at how wonderful the material felt, cool and smooth against his skin, and dyed in a perfect sapphire blue. But then, a stroke of realization caused Kostya to question. Honestly, how could such a thing go "clack"?

The woman didn't leave behind only her scarf. Turned out, she even dropped something smaller, harder and heavier.

_She even left a... doll... behind..._ Kostya was hardly aware that he started shuddering. Despite looking good as new, it was the type of doll manufactured more than twenty years before and had already been nowhere to be bought in the world any more.

And Kostya remembered touching it once.

_"Give me back my Masha! GIIIIIIIIIVE IT BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!_"

"Keep the change." - speaking with a twisted tongue to the waiter - he didn't even know that he was speaking Russian - the blue-head grabbed his bag and put his jacket back on rather clumsily, not forgetting to take the doll and the scarf with him. He sprinted out of the front door screaming: "MILENKA! MILEEEEEEEENKAAAAAA!", leaving everyone in the cafe confused, especially the waiter.

"I didn't know Russian journalists are that crazy!" - he commented.

* * *

He cursed the God with all his might. Now he'd lost track of her. She vanished before his eyes once again.

Just when he thought that his dream of her for the past two years had finally come true!...

_Damn it._ Anyone could tell that Kostya was about to rip the scarf apart and smash the doll against the ground until it broke into pieces. But instead, with trembling hands, he began clutching them against his chest as if they were the things driving him crazy and not his aqua-haired sweetheart. Tears streaming from his dark steel blue eyes, he declared:

**"Even if I had to travel all over Europe on foot, I'd find you no matter what, my sweet Milenka!"**

* * *

"... What's your problem, Rosalia?" - asked - more like interrogated - the pink-haired female as she sent intense, shiver-inducing stares from her blue eyes that effectively caused the blonde before her feel a sharp chill down her spine.

"It's... It's not a big deal... Really..." - Rosie stuttered - "It's just... It's just... Our new employee from the Milan office wants to talk to you!"

"Oh, it's... oh, what's his name... Gavino, isn't he? You can go tell him to come in now, _and..."_ - there came the "evil glare" again; Rosie had to hold back the scream she was about to let out, resulting in a small yelp escaping her throat - "... tell him I _hate_ it when there's someone peeping at the door when it's wide open!"

Nodding quickly, the blonde retreated. Still hadn't yet recovered from the horror carved straight into her brain, she muttered to her friend nearby: "Remember what I said, dear? Stick to the plan! Just remember dear, you've just been working here for four months so dear Lyubov'd be easier on you than she is on me. Okay?"

"Okay. Here I go." - having fully prepared himself for the possible worst, the violet-haired stepped pass the door. Enthusiasm oozed from his amethyst eyes; he didn't even show the slightest indication of fear anywhere. He was like a brave Roman warrior, on his way of conquering a new land; despite not with weapons, but only with a piece of notebook paper in hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Gavino."

"Nice to meet you too, Lyuboch- _Lyubov_." - the Italian laughed sheepishly - "So... I've just been transferred here not long ago and there are people I still need to know more about. I wonder if I can ask you some qu-"

"Go on." - replied Lyuba coldly, eyes shooting daggers at the taller male.

"Well... I'd like to know..." - he brought the paper to his eye level and began reading - "your email address!"

"It's confidential."

"Okaaaay..." - it started to seem harder than he thought - "your phone number?"

"Confidential."

"Your home address?"

"Confidential."

"Your home country?"

"_Rossiyskaya Federatsya._"

_Damn_. he thought. His attempt at poking fun at her by trilling her tongue had failed miserably. It looked like he had to keep going.

"Do you like waking up early in the morning?"

"No."

"Do you like spicy food?"

"No."

"Do you play any musical instruments?"

"No."

"Do you like rich guys who can buy you thousands of diamond rings or normal guys who work at offices?"

Rosie, who'd been watching the whole thing from behind the door, was waiting for this very moment. So far, she had never asked this question without being scoffed at afterwards - without the damn answer.

"... Wait a minute. What kind of question was that?" - she could deny all she wanted but Lyuba was visibly _blushing_. Hehehe, Gavino was one-hundred percent sure he was going to win any minute. What he needed then was a finishing blow...

"Are you in love with anyone?"

"None of your business!" - the pink-haired glued her eyes tightly to the floor, so different from a few minutes ago when those same eyes shot X-ray right through Gavino's.

"Are you still virgin?"

"None of your business!"

"What are your three sizes?"

"Are you crazy?"

"What underwear color do you prefer?"

"You are crazy!"

"Are you wearing a bra?"

"Your brain is completely broken!"

"Do you know that I've liked you from the start?"

"You stupid idiot!"

"That I love you so much?"

"Shut up!"

"Do you know that you're very sexy? Your hair, your lips, your eyes, your voice..."

"Enough!" - she began shaking her head furiously, silky pink strands of hair flying all over the place. Both her cheeks were tomato red.

"Do you know..."

"**LEAVE ME ALOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!**" - screaming with all her might, dear Lyuba nearly caused an earthquake, making both Gavino and Rosie behind the door jumped at least twenty centimeters above the ground while a shiver spread rapidly through every nerves in their bodies. Turning around and face-planting on her desk, she let out muffled mumbles: "You, _both of you_, get out of here or I'll report you to the CEO. I don't want to see you ever again.", the usual crisp sternness replaced with a long, whiny sort of quality to her voice.

Gavino smirked. He may have not gotten the information he needed, but anyway, he _won_.

The road to Lyuba's heart might be longer than he thought, but he, an ambitious person, believed that fully taking over her heart was just a matter of time to him.

* * *

**End of chapter** **4**

_**Translations: **Rossiyskaya Federatsya_: Russian Federation

**CAST:**

_?_ as **the waiter**

**A/N: 1. Sorry to let you down but Len isn't going to appear in this fic :(. You can imagine him being the RusTravel's agent or the waiter, it's your choice~**

**2. And yes, I'm supposed to update Suomi Sweetheart as well. I have the plot all planned on a piece of paper, but now I just can't come up with a way to continue the story smoothly so I guess I'd stay sticking to this fic until I come up with an idea to eliminate my writer's block...**

**3. I know, that part with Gaku and Luka kinda failed there... But I just couldn't come up with anything better. Besides, the main plot with Kaito and Miku is pretty sad already so I just wanna lighten up the mood with some random humor, but I promise -spoiler- thattheplotwithGakuandLukawillbemoreserioustowardstheend -end of spoiler-**


	5. Over Europe Skies

The weather had never been more perfect. The sky was clear blue, the clouds white and fluffy. Every once in a while, a gentle wind would blow, playing music in the leaves. No traces of black clouds anywhere.

It was a wonderful day for hanging out with your friends, a date with your sweetheart, or playing your violin on the balcony.

Taking a deep breath, Milya smiled softly as she felt the wind on her skin. She smiled although she was sad. No matter how had she tried, she couldn't get that "person" off her mind. She went crazy, she yelled at her colleagues, she broke her pencil, she even began to hit people who "annoyed" her. She needed to put a stop to this, and in her mind, nothing calmed better than music.

She put the instrument on her left shoulder and, slowly and securely, glided the bow across the strings while her left hand did its work. There it went, a soft waltz melody.

How long hadn't she touched her violin? Three, four weeks maybe? But no matter how long she'd been ignoring the instrument, just give it to her and she'll play it like a professional. Yet she chose to bring out this simple melody; why would she do that when she could play an entire concerto if she wanted? There had always been a reason...

Milya had been learning violin ever since she was five. It was when a disaster destroyed her childish innocence: her lovely grandmother ascended to heaven. As one of their hopeless efforts to stop little Milya from locking herself in her bedroom with her Masha and keeping on crying all day, her parents snatched the doll from her, shoved the violin into her hands and told her to play a song. "Come on, you've never said no to the violin!" they said. Not having the nerves to disobey, she had to play with her trembling little hands her favorite waltz. All of a sudden, she felt so much... _better._ As if her grandma's death was just a dream. She started smiling as the song came to an end, followed by a round of applause from her biggest fans: her father and mother.

Ever since, she'd played this song whenever she was sad, during a heavily rainy day, after a terrible school day, or after the day she separated from her boyfriend. The song was like magic to her, it brought happiness back to her every time she thought she'd lost it, it healed her broken heart, it stopped her from committing suicide. Even now, when another hellish disaster called amnesia had fallen on her, it could never delete that song from her mind.

Milya let her eyes fall shut and herself lost in the music. Her fingertips began to hurt, but she didn't mind. A mischievous breeze came by, teasing her long turquoise hair. White birds spreading their wings in that endless blue sky sang in harmony with her song. People nearby stopped for a moment as they whispered to each other: "Look, there's a pretty violinist on the balcony!"

She lasted the last note particularly long, letting it fade away into the air nicely. Removing the wooden instrument from her shoulder, positioning so that it was in front of her stomach, she heaved a heavy sigh.

She didn't feel any better.

Instead, an indescribable heat coursed its way through her veins and a pain started taking over her head. She saw "that person" again...

Letting out a low moan, she retreated into her room, leaving her violin on the floor, slightly cracked.

* * *

**End of chapter 5**

**CAST:**

_?_ as **the citizens**

**A/N: If anyone needs a clarification on that last sentence: Miku accidentally _dropped_ her violin on the floor as she ran into her room.**


	6. Dream of You

_9:00 AM, Italian time._

"Please... don't go... Don't leave me here... Please..." - muttered the woman between heavy, ragged gasps as she writhed and rolled under the soft blanket, forehead soaked with sweat, long untied aqua hair sprawled all over the pillow.

A turquoise eye cracked open and a sharp pain pierced all the way through her head. Gritting her teeth together, she used up pretty much every ounce left of her strength to shift and take a look at the clock sitting on the nightstand nearby. 9 o'clock sharp.

Just as she was about to panic, she remembered that she'd been given permission not to go to work that day. Collapsing back on the bed with a burning body and an empty stomach - she couldn't even get up to prepare breakfast - she buried her porcelain face into the pillow, letting endless thoughts swarm her stinging brain. The dream she just had... The person... Who was he? Why didn't she want him to go? Why did she feel so right yet so wrong every time he appeared in her mind?

At times like this, she wanted to either play her beloved violin or give her "best friend" a tight cuddle and cry all day, but since the instrument had already been broken and Masha nowhere to be found, she had no other choice than to pull the blanket over her head and resort down to just sobbing.

* * *

Huffing and puffing, Rosie knew she was late, _too_ late for work now and of course she was going to get into trouble. _Why do they have to make such a fuss about it?_ she thought. _I_ just _oversleep once in a while!_ To make matters worse, her motorbike was broken and the problem wouldn't be fixed until at least four days later. _Well, the exercise should do me good._ she whispered to herself as part of her attempt to ease her huge pain in the ass.

"'xcuse me miss, can I ask you..."

"Oh great, now I have to waste my precious time to some dear random crazy young man, eh?! Sorry to upset you, dear, but I don't have enough breath to talk to some fuzzy-wuzzy idiots!" - she scoffed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that..." - giving the blonde a confused look, the blue-head towering Rosie replied in a thickly accented English.

"Oh dear, you're not Italian..." - said Rosie in English as she narrowed her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side.

"Well yes, I'm from Russia. Would you mind if I just ask you one question?" - the male looked very desperate. The Italian's sharp eyes had already noticed a journalist's tag dangling in front of his chest.

"Oh, then why didn't you say so in the first place, dear? _Ya govoryu po russkiy!_" - claimed Rosie cheerfully as she sported an innocent smile on her adorable features.

"... Okay." - the man had to resist the urge to throw his hand up and slap his own face. He requested slowly and quietly, in his mother tongue - "Listen... I need to find a person. She's also Russian. She moved here a few years ago from Moscow. Have you met anyone like that?"

"Be more specific, dear. I work for an Italo-Russian company so I know _thousands _of people like that!" - it was a blatant lie - the company she worked for was no where near _Italo_-Russian.

"Do you know anyone like this?" - he gave her a small sheet of paper. It was a terribly sketchy drawing of something like a stick figure with scraggly blue-green lines around its head resembling bangs and pigtails and another smaller stick figure next to its arm with bright blond "hair". There were two words written in Slavic connected to each of the figures with poorly drawn arrows, one that read "Миленька" pointed to the big stick figure and one "Маша" pointed to the smaller one.

_She's kinda familiar... _thought Rosie. _I _definitely _know this person, but let's see, who exactly is she..._

"And yes, I have these things of her. Have you seen anyone with these?" - the man began fishing around in his bag.

...

* * *

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Gavino, you're _not _gonna believe what I'm telling you." - filled to the brim with excitement, the blonde babbled as she almost bounced around literally - "That blueberry head man showed me a scarf. Guess what?"

"What?" - asked the other Italian as he took a sip from his tea and let his eyes unconsciously stared off into the distance.

"You wouldn't believe this, my dear, I'm telling you! He was looking for no one other than dear Mileva!"

Gavino nearly either choked on his tea or spitted it all over the place. Regaining his composure _and_ swallowing his drink safely, he blubbered: "Wh... What? He was looking for _Mileva_? How come?"

"Dear, the scarf he showed me was clearly Mileva's! There is no second one that looks the same in this entire Italy! And yeah, that dear guy even showed me a... a _doll_..." - she began snorting - "I didn't know she's still playing with a _doll_... And dear, you know what, he thought I was _funny _so he took a photo of me and thanked me. He told me that I was the fourth person he asked and "hoped to see me again"! Like, Gavino dear, you _have _to see his eyes! They were filled with desperation and passion, and I have the feeling that there's a special purpose behind his search!"

"_Lia._" - having realized something, Gavino gave up enjoying his tea and shot closer to Rosie, face visibly _scary _- "Let me tell you a story. Earlier today, I met a guy with dark blue hair claiming he was a journalist from Russia. He asked me if I saw a girl he knew. He showed me his downright _awful _drawing and then a blue scarf and a doll. I said I didn't know anyone like that and he thanked me. But then he said he thought I was _charming _and wanted to take a photo of me. After that, he said goodbye and added that I was the fifteenth person he asked."

He wasn't even aware that Rosie's jaw had dropped as much as six inches.

"And you know what he said _after _that?"

"**That he was travelling all over Rome on foot to find his love!**"

They both covered their mouth upon the sudden realization that they were speaking in unison.

"Or maybe this is the reason why Mileva dear refused every single guy I introduced her? Could he be the person she said she's "in love with but doesn't know who"? Could it be that she's suffering from..."

"Wait a minute!" - she was quickly interrupted. A thought of a certain pink-haired blooming in his brain as a triumphant smirk found its way to his lips. Stroking his chin, he whispered to his companion: "Lia, _I think I've got a plan_..."

* * *

**End of chapter 6**

**_Translations:_ **_Ya govoryu po russkiy:_ I speak Russian.


	7. On the Go

"Excuse me, have you seen anyone with these things?"

"No, I'm sorry." - replied the woman with dark curly hair - "But this is a very lovely scarf! I haven't seen anything like this before!"

"Oh, thank you." - said the tall aquamarine-haired - "But I think you are beautiful, so would you mind if I took a photo of you, wearing this scarf?"

"Please do." - replied the other, knowing the blue-head was a journalist. Wrapping the blue silk around her neck, she gave a light smile at the camera pointing straight at her.

_Snap._

"Thank you very much! By the way, you are the twentieth person I've met!"

* * *

"I haven't seen her! But the doll is so pretty! You said that girl is a big girl so can I have this doll? Please?" - the little girl bounced cheerfully, her eyes glinting with childish joy.

"I'm afraid not..." - the man forced a smile as he scratched the back of his head - "This doll is her best friend, if I don't give it back to her, she'll be very angry!"

As the girl began to pout, he decided to add: "Hey, how about I lend you this doll for a while to take a picture?"

"Okay." - she grinned. Taking the doll from the older's hands, she embraced it tightly against her chest as the man pointed his huge camera lens at her: "That's it... Hold still... You look great... Now say cheese!"

_Snap._

"Really? You're a journalist, sir?"

"Yeah. I work for a pretty well-known tourism magazine in Russia!"

"Wow, you must be rich!"

"Not really... Can you give me back the doll so that I can go return it?... Thanks a lot! You are the thirtieth person I've asked!" - the man crouched down to give her a handshake before getting up and disappearing into the crowd with the scarf and the doll.

* * *

"We haven't seen anyone like that anywhere." - replied the young schoolboy, followed by nods from his two companions - "but this scarf reminds me of our Math teacher's!"

"Believe us, _signore-_ ah, _sir,_ our teacher Ms. Acerbi is a monster!" - said the female one of the three - "She's ridiculously strict and she looks terribly ugly! She wears expensive clothing all the time but that only makes her look even more hideous!"

"And sir, you know what," - said the remaining boy - "when she's mad, she makes a face like this!" - he started wrinkling his face and distorting his lips in a downright hilarious way, making his friends nearly fell to the ground laughing.

"Ohoho..." - the man bursted into laughter as well - "You guys are the funniest kids I've ever met! Hey, how about I take a photo of you?"

"Sure." answered one as he examined the piece of information on the blue-head's chest - "I don't think I can read that but you're a journalist, aren't you?"

"Exactly." - smiled the older as he pointed his lens at the children - "Now smile!"

_Snap._

"What do you think he might be writing about, Abele?" - questioned the girl curiously.

"I don't know, but he seems interesting." - said the boy named Abele - "I don't think anyone else can go around a city and ask _sixty-seven_ people just to find a girl!"

"Yeah, I agree."

* * *

"Come on! Why do you have to give it to that girl while _you_ look so much better in this scarf? It matches your hair! Trust me!" - the red-haired woman claiming she was Irish tried with all her might to get a corner of the blue silk on the male's neck despite his wiggling of refusal.

"But... but..."

"She's your girlfriend, of course she wouldn't mind!"

Grunting at the very bottom of his throat, the Russian let go, allowing the woman to drape the long scarf around his broad neck. All of a sudden, he froze on the spot as hot blood rushed to his cheeks.

"See, I told you, you look _sooooo_ handsome!... Hello? You okay?"

"Yeah... I'm just a bit... you know..." - the blueberry-head gazed off to the side as he forced coughs out of his dried throat. _Milenka..._ he thought as he pulled up the material to cover his nose.

"Oh, that doll is so pretty! You look cute holding it like this... there... Fantastic! Hey, I see you have a camera there! Let's take a photo of us together!"

_Snap._

She swore that she could never forget him for the rest of her life. The way his perfect aquamarine hair matched the blue silk. The way he grunted in exasperation. The way he told her "you're the one hundredth person I've asked" in his horribly yet somehow _sexily_ heavy accent.

_His search continued._

* * *

**End of chapter 7**

_**Translations:** signore:_ sir, gentleman

**CAST:**

**The people whom Kostya asks** are _the same (but not the exact people) as in the "Europe's Skies" MV._

**A/N: I only include the first 4 people in the MV (the dark curly-haired woman, the little girl, the red-haired woman and the group of schoolchildren; the latter 2 switched places), otherwise the chapter will be overly long and repetitive XD.**


	8. Hear Me Pray

She opened her sore eyes just to feel that same hellish pain cutting through her head again. She could barely sit up or even move any of her exhausted limbs. She came to realize there were wires connected to her wrists, her fingers, pretty much every other parts of her body.

The view in front of her eyes was nothing but a blur, a veil of white mist with traces of blue and black here and there. There was nothing filling the air but a frightening silence; it was, until some voices sounded which the woman had the ability to pick up with her intermediate Italian.

"... Oh, the Russian lady over there? You won't want to hear this..."

"Don't use that voice on me!" - a male voice snapped, albeit still low and at an acceptable level - "It's my duty to know what's happening to the patients!"

"Listen, she's in a very serious condition." - replied a female, unnoticeably trembling voice - "The chance of living is one in a thousand! If the God gives us luck and everything goes like how we planned, she'll live, like the last time we performed the operation on her years ago. Otherwise..." - the voice reduced to breathless sobs.

The turquoise-haired squeezed her eyelids even though it didn't stop brine from streaming out of her eyes one drop by one, which hurt even more. She wished she hadn't heard what she had. Was she going to die? Did she have to leave the world in such a way? And leave her mystery undiscovered...

"_You will live_."

What was that voice she heard? It was so vivid, so lively, she thought she even heard the breath in that. A faint, familiar shade of deep blue flicked across her closed eyes. The feeling of her own weight vanished, all her worries had gone, all her pain and sorrow disappeared.

Smiling at the corner of her lips, she uttered inaudibly:

"_Kostenka_."

* * *

**End of chapter 8**

**CAST:**

_?_ as** the nurse and the doctor**


	9. But I Need More Time!

A manager's work was never done, Lyuba had this fact long engraved in her brain. There were far, far too many documents to read, informations to process and numbers to calculate. Looked like her hope for a nice dinner and a warm shower had all vanished into thin air, since it was already 8:00 PM, and yet she was still alone in her office, working on a report.

She couldn't help but be slightly distracted by her own thoughts. There were strange things happening that day, and it was about no one other than a certain purple-haired Milanese. There was absolutely something wrong with him, he forgot to hand over his document which was to be handed that day, he remembered nothing about the project they were working on, he forgot his own last name and spoke nothing but Italian. It was a total mystery why he'd made himself a complete fool, for he'd always been an efficient and serious worker since he was first transferred into the office.

Her work was done at last, she sighed inwardly as she shut down her computer. Grabbing her bag, Lyuba stood up on her feet, switched off the lights and twisted the doorknob. The whole interior of the building was filled with darkness and silence, no one was seen except the pink-haired woman, no sounds were heard except short, continuous clogging noises coming from her high-heels.

But it was not long before her surprisingly sensitive ears detected something that sounded like whispers coming from a corner. Thieves? She decided to halt and listen.

"Dear, I told you it's a horrible idea! If you hadn't fooled around all day, you wouldn't have to finish your work this late!"

"Did I ask you to stay back along with me while I can finish my work on my own?"

"But dear, I'm your friend, of course I have to be here with you to help!"

"No, you're not helping at all. Now keep your mouth shut and let me finish this!"

"While I think you're stupid, dear! Just face it, your freaking plan failed! What's with all the "pretending to be amnesic like Mileva" thing? No matter how well you act, dear, the old hag will never _worry_ about a loser like you!"

"As if your plans aren't absurd enough anyway! Asking her crappy questions? Only morons do that! But just look, Mileva has memory loss _and_ she has a guy who does _everything_ it takes to find her, so now if Lyubov thinks I have amnesia, of course she'd care about me!"

The conversation was in perfect Italian, but the pink-haired was able to understand all of it with her competitive level of the language. She was nearly frozen all over, but luckily enough her legs were still able to so their job of taking her closer to the source of the voices.

It was exactly like how she'd predicted. Two Italians were situated next to a secluded desk in the corner with the male's laptop still open and on, arguing.

"So shut the hell up and... Oh, _privet!_" - the purple-haired immediately switched voices and languages when he felt a tall and intimidating female figure looming over him - "H-hi there, Lyubochka! How's the... how's the going?"

_Lyubochka?_ thought the woman as a vein popped on her forehead.

"Um... you... okay? Why are you staying back this late? You should-"

Gavino had no time to finish, because just then, Lyuba sunk her right fist into his cheek, sending him flying all the way across the room before ending up with his back slammed hard against a shelf. Saying no more, the tall woman stormed out of the office, muttering curses in the process.

* * *

**End of chapter 9**


	10. There's no Place like Home

Fifteen minutes till arrival in Moscow,

he was on his way home.

He'd learned to accept it, though

his heart was left in Rome.

It felt as if yesterday she was still around,

and seconds later she was nowhere to be found.

There were thousands of girls out there,

she was the only one he'd ever care.

Her beautiful hair,

her angelic voice...

He was high up in the sky,

now he couldn't help but cry.

Fifteen minutes till he was back into the embrace of Mother Russia,

till he was home.

* * *

**End of chapter 10**

**A/N: Forgive my failed poetry... I was too lazy so I decided to come up with a few verses...**


	11. Promise Me, You'll be Mine

"_Zdrastvuitye,_ Lyubov."

"_Buon giorno_, Lyubov."

Ignorance was what all the employees received from the pink-haired, not even a nod was seen. They didn't mind and just went back to work without even noticing that the manager was late - she was our dear fierce Lyuba after all.

And since Lyuba was so freaking up-tight, none of the poor employees bothered to ask what was wrong with her that made her face look at least 10 years older, or more. Neither did she herself want to let anyone know the truth, since it wasn't really pretty.

She was totally annoyed. Angered. Pissed. She didn't know how a certain new employee could be so _disrespectful _to the point of thinking that he could fool her so easily. Who did he think she was, a puppet for him to control?

Anyway, she had already reported him. However, the only reaction the CEO had was to look, well stare at her with shock and a hint of disgust in his eyes before turning away and giving her absolutely no answers other than a gesture for her to leave his office.

Lyuba was hardly aware that she had crashed against a smaller build going in her opposite direction, causing the stack of paper in the pink-haired's arms to escape and flutter to the floor at once like autumn leaves. But, the short blonde didn't seem to have the intention of helping her pick up the documents; in fact, she even stomped her little feet on the sheets, on purpose, before storming away, refusing to look the manager in the eye.

"Well? What do you think will just standing there like a complete idiot help, Gavino? Help me clean this mess already!" - she squeezed her eyebrows together as she scoffed in Russian, with her R's rolled more sharply than ever. And out of all answers she expected to get, she only got a bunch of foreign words quietly mouthed from the other.

"_Scusami, non so cosa tu stia dicendo._"

"Are you stupid? I _said_ help me clean this up!" - she shouted yet again, only this time in Italian. The tall violet-haired Milanese gave no response but cocking his head to the side and stare at her in a rather surprised and _innocent _fashion.

"Ohh, I get it." - the woman got up on her high-heels and gave the man a sharp, almost deadly glare from her blue eyes as she started giving him a piece of her mind in Russian no more, no less - "You're playing that game on me, aren't you? Well then I order you to quit whatever stupid acts you're conducting immediately and stop bothering the hell out of me right now. _Is that clear_?"

Gavino looked even more confused than ever. It wasn't until another Italian worker called him from afar that he decided to leave Lyuba alone with her mess.

After what seemed like _six _minutes of clearing up the documents from the floor and having them clasped against her chest with her white arms again, the tall woman made her way to her usual desk. The last thing she wanted to happen was that she was stopped on her track by the petite blonde she bumped into earlier again.

"Rosalia!..." - she was about to push her away before the smaller jumped in and not let her finish.

"No no, you don't have the right to boss me around anymore. I'm not scared of you." - Rosie nearly shot laser out of her eyes - "Listen up, old hag: You should be thankful that our dear boss didn't fire you. How can you treat Gavino dear like crap when _you _are the one who ruined his life in the first place?"

"Now what do you mean, Rosalia?"

"Just listen and make sure to _not. miss. any. words_, you damn monster. Remember last night? You threw him against the shelf, that didn't matter to him _but _since you have to be so freaking strong, a huge box fell off of the top of the shelf and... Well, Gavino dear's still able to work, but again, congratulations, he's not gonna hit on you _ever_ again cuz he doesn't remember one teeny tiny bit _who you are_. And yep, that's it, if not to mention he can't speak Russian anymore."

As Rosie whipped around and disappeared, Lyuba couldn't help but freeze on the spot. Did she do all this? So now he had _really _gotten amnesia? And all because of her?

_Nyet. Nyet. This just _can't _happen. I have to find him quickly. _she thought as she trashed her precious documents on the floor again and rushed away.

Seconds later, despite all the stares she was getting, she found herself burying her face into the violet-haired Italian's chest, sobbing in a nearly incomprehensible Italian. If listened closely, one could pick up the words in between gasps and hiccups that went: "I'm so, so, _so _sorry... I shouldn't have punched you... I'd do anything it takes to help you remember everything that you've forgotten... I promise that I'll teach you Russian _every single day_ until you're as- no even _more _fluent than before..."

"You know," - returning the embrace, Gavino whispered calmly - the first words he'd spoken to Lyuba that day - "I don't remember who you are, I don't even _know_ what you did to me, but I think I do recall something about you... Let's just say, _ya__ lyublyu tebya._"

* * *

**End of chapter 11**

**_Translations:_ **_zdrastvuitye_ (Russian): hello (formal), _buon giorno_ (Italian): hello/good day/good morning **(you should have known this if you've watched Hetalia, LOL), **_nyet _(Russian): no, s_cusami, non so cosa tu stia dicendo _(Italian): Sorry, I don't know what you're saying **(special thanks to Lilith Noor Daimon for the Italian translation!)**

**A/N: Aww, ain't that sad... Gaku and Luka are finally happy together, but it's just... Anyway, only 1 chapter to go, and then I can go update other piling stories X3 -coughcoughSuomiSweetheartcoughcough-**


	12. Why can't I?

_Moscow, 2012_

"I know I sound like some sort of repetitive grumpy old toad, but I still have to say it again cuz I can't help it!" - waffled the stout man who was officially confirmed Kostya's boss - the editor of the Tourist's Shoes magazine - "Konstantin, that was the most splendid piece of literature I've ever read! It should have been a part of the history of journalism! I mean, normally I don't like, well hate Italy to the core (and this has nothing to do with the cruel reality that my grandma Olga lives there!) but now, my comrade, you've worked your magic, you've given me a completely fresh perspective! You've shown me how the sky above the walls of Rome was so blue, how every of the faces you've taken photos of we're filled with so much happiness that I feel younger everytime I look at them! And yet, I'm too, far too old now but you, my friend, you gave me the feeling of the youthful energy of love like those unforgettable days again! Asking a total of over a hundred people to find your love, how romantic is that! Congratulations, Konstantin, your article "A Roman Romance" is featured in our Hall of Fame _(he meant the billboard in the hallway which he put up "notable" articles) _and gets you a promotion; not to mention a big bonus!"

The blue-haired man let the words came into one of his ears and flushed out through the other, except the word "love". He kind of got the idea that his life was going to get a little bit brighter, but it didn't matter all that much. His heart weighed heavier than ever, and he wished that from then on until the end of his life, that article he wrote wouldn't even be slightly mentioned. The wound in his heart deepened every time he heard the words "A Roman Romance"; long before he even knew, it began swelling. It didn't make blood drip out of his heart but it surely made tears stream from his eyes.

So, that night, he decided to set all his work aside to sit and write a letter.

_Dear Milenka,_

_It's been so long since we last met, right?_

_But, no matter how far we're apart, I always have you in my heart, and it makes me happy._

_Then again, you maybe the only one I think of, but what if I'm not the same to you? I know you're a girl, there are hundreds, thousands of guys out there who would be the better one for you than me. Ones who don't favor college over their girlfriends, maybe? You know, I'm trying to be funny writing these lines to you, but do you know deep beneath the cover of a smart humorous guy, the Konstantin I am now and always will be, lies a fragile soul that cracks every time the image of you happily hand-in-hand with someone else appears so vividly in its dreams?_

_Though now I maybe not so different from trash in your eyes, I still love you._

_That day have gone too far in the past now, but I still feel as if you've just told me you're moving to Rome yesterday. I still haven't forgotten the way your eyes twinkle when you promised me you'd come back and we'd have our wedding in Moscow, honeymoon in Paris, live together in Copenhagen and spend our last years in St. Petersburg, like you once said to me when we were still young. I honestly don't need it to be that way, I only wish to be close to you again, even just for one night, to hold you in my arms and kiss you with all my heart, to hear your voice and feel your breath, to watch your fingers dancing on violin strings. But most of all, I still need to return your scarf (which is a shame since I actually enjoy wearing it, and turns out it really does go with my hair) and your doll, which I believe is still called Masha._

_But that was not the point._

_I love you, Milenka._

_I really love you._

_I know this is hopeless, but please, would you come back?_

_- Your Kostenka_

* * *

**The End.**

**CAST** (from the beginning):

_Hatsune Miku_ as **Mileva** (Milya, Milenka)

_KAITO_ as **Konstantin** (Kostya, Kostenka)

_Kagamine Rin_ as **Rosalia Giuseppe** (Rosie, Lia)

_Yuzuki Yukari_ as **Yulia**

_Megurine Luka_ as **Lyubov** (Lyuba, Lyubochka)

_Kamui Gakupo_ as **Gavino**

_And other background casts_

**A/N: I know, sucky ending. But this is just one of my explanations why Kaito wears a scarf, so...**

**BTW, I'm thinking of writing a spin-off, well I will write it, so stay tuned!**


End file.
